The Same Park Bench
by dg4eva
Summary: There's no romance here. Only two people. Sitting on the same park bench.


AN: A friend challenged me to write a D/G one-shot that didn't feature any romance between the two. This is the result. It seems a kind of pointless story, but I was challenged and so had to take it up. Read it and review.

Disclaimer: JKR owns the characters. I own the plot. Am not making money. Etc…

The woman sighed quietly as she sat down on the bench. It was late at night, and the park was dark and silent. The only sign of life was a man sitting on the other end of the bench and the grey wisps of breath that indicated he was indeed alive, even if he made no noise.

She set her bag down beside her gently as she tipped her head back to look up at the sky. A few stars twinkled in the expanse of black, and the woman smiled slightly. It had been a while since she'd studied the stars.

Her life had been so hectic recently. Work had been piled on her, leaving her tired all the time. The day before, her boyfriend had dumped her. The latest in a long line of failed relationships. And to top it all, her mother had been nagging her about settling down soon, and producing some grandchildren. Her brothers were doing just fine in that department, so why wasn't she?

The woman sighed again, and leant forward to rest her elbows on her knees, and rest her chin in her hands.

She hadn't really listened to the reasons for being dumped. She had just been relieved. It had been hard to put up a front, a happy face on dates. It was all so tiring. This evening was the first time in a long while that she had had to herself.

And she was going to try and enjoy it.

Try.

x

The man stared at the trees lining the park. It was so peaceful here. Much different to how his day had been.

This morning, he had had to dispose of the latest floozy. After a somewhat enjoyable night in bed together, she had misunderstood his intentions as to where the relationship was going. And so he had told her plainly that he wasn't interested in anything more. And she had blown the roof. Literally. He supposed he could take it as a compliment that she would be so upset over his rejection. But he didn't really care. He had just wanted to be on his own.

But despite having rid of the screaming banshee, his morning was disturbed further. His mother had requested his presence at dinner. That would have been hell in itself, as he wasn't on the best speaking terms with her, but today was worse. She had enquired about the state of his love life, and then when he told her that he hadn't really got one at the moment, she had lost it. Quite similar to how the floozy had. His mother had ranted for quite a long time, and he had sat and watched the otherwise composed woman go completely livid.

The man sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

This was, perhaps, the first evening in a long time when he hadn't had a woman with him. That he had had to himself. It was relaxing. One-night stands were just so tiring.

x

The woman sat up straighter and looked at her watch. It was late and she had an early start the next morning. Time to head off home, she thought.

As she stood up and picked up her bag, it slipped out of her hands and dropped to the floor. The contents spilled everywhere and she fell to her knees with a groan. Straining her eyes in the weak light from the lamppost, she felt around for her keys and things.

Feeling something knock his foot, the man noticed the woman groan and drop to the ground. He bent down to pick up whatever had hit his shoe, only to find it was a wand. A wand? He thought with curiosity. The woman was a witch?

Standing up and staring around her in frustration, the woman put her hand to her forehead. Buying another wand would be expensive. Money that she would have to struggle to scrape together. Another thing that she would have to do, on top of everything else. She groaned again.

The man cleared his throat from beside her.

She turned to look at him, raising her eyebrows. "Yes?"

"You dropped this?" He raised his hand and held out her wand. Sighing with relief, she reached out and took it.

"Thanks." She smiled slightly at him, and he nodded back.

"You're magic?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, wondering whether he had seen her before.

"Yeah. I went to Hogwarts," she replied.

Frowning slightly, he said, "I don't recognise you." She looked about his age, maybe older judging by the fine lines surrounding her eyes and across her forehead. Her eyes also held a tiredness he hadn't seen in a person of these times. Maybe during the war, but that had been a long time ago.

"It's been a long time since I went there. People change," the woman replied, distractedly. She looked off into the distance, remembering her days there. At Hogwarts, life had been so easier. There was less to worry about, not counting homework and exams. But even those did not ruin the times spent there. What she would give to be as carefree as she had been back then.

"Yeah. People do change." The man nodded again, even though she didn't see him do it. He had changed since then, for sure. In school, he'd been a bit of a bully. Well, maybe more than a bit. But it was certain that he'd changed. The war had changed him. The person he was now was much preferable to the one before.

There was silence as the two people stood lost in their thoughts about the past.

The woman turned to go, but was stopped by the man. "Who are you?"

Glancing back over her shoulder, she looked at the man. Smiling slightly, she replied, "I'm not so sure anymore."

Taken by surprise at her answer, the man stared at the woman. How could someone not know who they were?

"Sorry," the woman said, shaking her head. "I've had kind of a bad day."

"Me too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Silence took over again, and the pause was an awkward one.

Clearing her throat and adjusting her bag on her shoulder, the woman made to leave. "I have to go. Bye."

"Bye," he replied, and watched her walk away, leaving him standing next to the bench in the darkness. His eyes stayed on her, squinted slightly as he racked his brain wondering who she was, or had been, when she walked under a lamp-post. In that moment, in the dim white light of the lamp-post, he knew exactly who she was. The red hair told him so.

Ginny Weasley.


End file.
